kagablog

It’s cast as a veritable war zone but aren’t there other dimensions to this city, asks Mary Corrigall

THOSE who never leave Joburg are those who can’t. Cast as a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah, riddled by crime, corruption and moral decay, why would anyone want to inhabit this treacherous locale? Or such are the popular perceptions of this illustrious African conurbation.

Durban is pegged as a tropical surfer’s paradise and Cape Town summons images of a hippy existence. But Joburg, well, Joburg’s a veritable war zone: a fast-paced and dangerous metropolis that crushes the weak and the vulnerable. On days when the blood of the innocent or defenceless is carelessly spilled, its bad reputation seems justified. But cities are by their nature multilayered and complex entities with intricate personalities that defy superficial labels.

Certainly, Joburg has many dimensions, yet its dangerous persona has come to dominate how it is perceived, and not just by outsiders; even its most steadfast denizens hold this one-dimensional picture of Joburg to be true. In fact, it is with a certain sense of pride that many a Joburger boasts of the city’s less desirable attributes, publishing to the world that this is the most hazardous city on the globe.

It’s not just that they want the world to learn of their tribulations but to reflect on their stamina and/or determination to survive at any cost. The result, however, is that Joburg has become a mythologised locale, and for outsiders it has become emblematic of the quintessential corrupt, failed African city.

“You could tell your mother you were going on a package holiday to Kabul, with a stopover in Haiti and Detroit, and she wouldn’t bat an eyelid. But tell her you’re going to Joburg and she’ll be absolutely convinced that you’ll come home with no wallet, no watch and no head,” TV personality and journalist Jeremy Clarkson wrote recently in the British Sunday Times.

Surprisingly, Clarkson wasn’t put off coming to Joburg and after a brief sojourn he reported that it wasn’t half as dangerous as he expected. The Joburg that Clarkson saw to-and-fro from his swanky hotel room wasn’t quite the same slice of Joburg that most locals encounter. So predictably Clarkson’s article caused a furore as it passed through e-mail inboxes around the city.

Clarkson’s glib and light-hearted article underplayed some of the harsh realities that Joburgers regularly encounter, but revealed a curious fact: it seems that Joburgers are determined to preserve a one-dimensional view of their city. Stephen Hobbs is a committed Joburger in the sense that he not only believes that the city is ascending but has chosen to play an active role in guaranteeing that his conviction is realised.

As an artist and partner in Trinity Session, a company that manages art projects around Joburg, he has been in the ideal position to engage with and challenge negative views about the city. He suggests that pessimistic perceptions of Joburg have been predominantly propagated by the white middle-class – particularly those who have sought refuge in supposedly greener pastures. “They have a tendency to over-exaggerate conditions in South Africa and in Joburg to justify their leaving, that their leaving the country is predicated on fact,” he says.

Ivor Chipkin, a chief research specialist at the Human Sciences Research Council, who has made a comprehensive study of the literature on Joburg, believes that many white middle-class people are nostalgic about the Joburg they knew in the ’60s and ’70s, and their negative outlook on the city is centred on the reality that their old stomping ground in Hillbrow has changed dramatically.

“White middle-class people talk about Hillbrow of the past when it had a vibrant club scene and those people felt like they could participate in the real life of the city. “Now they don’t feel that they can do that and there is this deep sense of real loss. They have lost the places they grew up in. This bohemian multi-cultural space has been turned into a horrifying, violent place.”

Proof of such attitudes can be found on YouTube, where a number of videos document the demise of Hillbrow, inferring that it signalled that Joburg, too, was in a state of decline.One such video is called The Life and Death of Joburg. Footage of buildings in Hillbrow in a state of disrepair is shown, as are images of rubbish-strewn streets. A plethora of messages from visitors articulates disillusionment and fear.

“I lived in a block of flats in Charlton Terrace across from the Ponte and Ellis Park. I used to walk to the Doors night club. I used to walk to Rockey St. Now I am scared to drive,” reads one such message.

The degeneration of the inner city is clearly not incidental to the idea of Joburg as a dangerous destination. The inner city represents the heart and soul of a city; it embodies a city’s personality and it is where its success is measured. Once the inner city is seen to disintegrate, it gives root to the idea that the city’s core character has been corrupted.

The numerous books and academic papers that have been written about Joburg over the last decade give credence to this idea. Chipkin’s study of the literature on Joburg in 2005 showed that discourses are centred on the degeneration of the inner city, which is said to have begun around the late ’80s when there was an influx of black South Africans looking to escape the violent upheavals in the townships. Chipkin found, however, that the collapse of the inner city wasn’t simply about the changing racial profile of its inhabitants but that other types of demands, such as more parking facilities and modern buildings, spurred an exodus from the city, eventually contributing to its decline.

“The inner city certainly has experienced a long period of decline and crime has been part of the story, especially in specific areas like the Park Station precinct,” confirms Lael Bethlehem, chief executive of the Johannesburg Development Agency (JDA), the company charged with managing regeneration programmes in the city.

“There was a sense that the city had undergone a social and psychological decay. The lower income population replaced the upper middle classes, bringing different values to the city, and this has accelerated perceptions that the city is full of crime and people live in fear of their lives,” observes Hobbs. Physically altering the city is one way of shifting attitudes about Joburg. A plethora of regeneration programmes aimed at uplifting the inner city have been in full swing for some time, giving rise to talk that the city is on the ascent.

“The last three or four years have seen sustained improvements including a better security climate. We are beginning to take back the streets and formerly slummed buildings through sustained investment by both the private and public sectors,” says Bethlehem.

“Large-scale regeneration pro-cesses, like the one we are experiencing in the inner city, create the opportunity to rewrite the story of the place.”

Though the JDA’s efforts have produced startling results, with parts of the inner city being fully revitalised and parading a clean and modern façade, the myth about Joburg as a dangerous place persists.

Hobbs suggests that it is only through physical encounters with the inner city that Joburgers’ attitudes will change. “It’s a psychological perception that can only be altered by confronting reality.”

Physically altering the city’s exteriors is only part of the solution; it doesn’t tackle the social problems that fuel crime, homelessness and public disruption.
“You can upgrade the urban environment to enhance the user’s experience of the city but for some users this doesn’t address his needs; why should a user give a damn about a better bus shelter or nicer urban furniture when his immediate needs aren’t being addressed,” asks Hobbs.

Joburg has always had a dodgy reputation, says Nechama Brodie, author of The Joburg Book. “A hundred or 120 years ago Joburg was exactly the same. When you read old newspaper reports you find stories about someone who got murdered while out on walk through the veld on a Sunday.”

Harsh conditions on the mines and dire living in a makeshift city in a dry, hot climate not only tested the character of its first inhabitants but instilled an advanced appetite for booze and loose women. A couple of years into Joburg’s inception there were as many as 400 bars, according to Brodie. This all contributed to Joburg being labelled as a place of ill-repute and danger, she suggests.

Despite these negative connotations, Joburg has also been associated with wealth and affluence; a destination that delivers riches to those with determination and a penchant for risk. It is this aspect of the city that has attracted people from all over the country and the continent.

“People just keep coming and keep coming here. It is a city of self-made people who have made something out of nothing,” says Brodie.

In a city that is continuously trying to cope with a growing influx of people it is only natural that there is friction and malice, infers Brodie. It is just such realities that have fed the myth of Joburg as being a precarious place to live.

Adrian Loveland, a filmmaker whose pop-documentary on Joburg, Unhinged: Surviving Joburg will be released in cinemas soon, suggests it is no myth that Joburg is a harsh place to live. But he doesn’t see it as being any more or less harsh than other major cities in the country. It seems apparent that the country’s woes have come to rest squarely on Joburg’s shoulders. “What goes on in Joburg happens everywhere in the country. The murder rate is higher in Cape Town. I think Joburg highlights the state of the rest of the country,” says Loveland.

Locally produced films such as Tsotsi (2005) and more recently, Jerusalema (2008), which are both set in Joburg and feature the city’s grittier side, perpetuate stereotypical notions of this city as being a hub of crime and destruction. Both films also promote the idea that this dysfunctional city produces damaged people.
The promo for Loveland’s movie advances the idea that Joburg has been “misunderstood” and that the film aims to clear up misconceptions.

Loveland is personally invested in the film’s objective, not just because he is a Joburger but because he is trying to get a handle on his love-hate connection to Joburg. He decided to make the movie after a friend was killed during a hijack and his mother was hijacked. These traumatic incidents compelled Loveland to reconsider Joburg and come to terms with all its facets.

“The movie was born from chaos; I felt all over the place. I was up about Joburg one day and down about it the next, wanting to leave. With the movie I wanted to pose the question: is Joburg like Sodom and Gomorrah or is it a city that can enjoy a place on the global stage?”

Johannesburg City Council is certainly hoping the latter will prove accurate as it has been actively involved in attempting to create a new perception: that of a world-class city.

“According to this plan, by 2030 international corporates will have been enticed out of the cushy New York, London or Tokyo offices into safe, middle-income, wide-bandwith Johannesburg. Our economy will lie firmly in a globally competitive service sector and the city’s poor will have migrated to ‘lower costs centres’ to where the manufacturing sector will have relocated,” observes Lindsay Bremner in Johannesburg: One City, Colliding Worlds (2004).

Chipkin sees merit in casting Joburg as a capitalist metropolis. “By looking at the way people dress, the music they listen to, the places where they eat and go out, the way that they display themselves, it is possible to understand how Johannesburg, and with it Africa, is like the rest of the world.”

However, Chipkin suggests that emphasising its commercial potential over the social and economic structures that sustain it underplays the manner in which poverty, class and race continue to have an impact on the character of the city and the experiences of its inhabitants.

Bethlehem says: “To me the notion of ‘world-class’ means that we aspire to be on par with any great city. But we are not trying to create something bland or generic. We need to rebuild Johannesburg as a premier African city, rooted in South African life and reflecting the energy and vibrancy of this incredible place.”
Hobbs adds: “When we think of 2010, Gautrain and the Bus Rapid Transit system being set up now, we can start to understand that there is a degree of validity to the ambition that by 2030 Joburg will be a world-class city. All of it is hyperbole so one has to keep oneself in check, but it’s a changing urban environment and I think that instead of holding on to old myths we should be engaging with life here and be part of solving the problem.”

A number of South Africans are actively trying to shatter stereotypical notions about Joburg. In a video titled The death of Johannesburg, a local YouTube user tries to dispel the myth that Joburg is in decline by comparing footage shot on the same corner of an inner city street in 2006 and 2008.

The 2008 incarnation of this average street shows great improvement; the shop on the corner has been given a facelift. Other footage shows pedestrians walking through public spaces in the inner city. Text appears on the screen asking: “Do they look terrified?” The video concludes with the slogan: “the death of the death of Johannesburg” – in other words, it’s time to extinguish the idea that Joburg is a city in decline.

But it’s not just on YouTube that one finds calls to reappraise the city. Blogs such as “the Real Joburg (realjohannesburg.blogspot.com) have been established to “relay the truth to the general public”. Such phrases create the impression that it is ignorance that feeds the idea of Joburg as a “failed city”.

In 2007 Hobbs and his artistic collaborator, Marcus Neustetter, charged into Hillbrow on foot with a number of Joburgers in tow. It was the culmination of an art project designed to integrate themselves with this part of the city and engage with the politics of space.

Hobbs discovered that “you can actually cross over into deep dark and dangerous Hillbrow and meet and learn about each other and actually enjoy a meaningful exchange with someone.

If you don’t do that kind of stuff then not only are you keeping the myths alive but you are cutting yourself off from the greatest potential that this city has to offer.”